Huh, don't quite know that one
by Azulsky
Summary: Yeah Sam, in between the time we had tea with the nice old lady and made sure the big guy wasn’t going to shoot us, I slipped our number into her paw. [Part Two in The Ruff Warriors Series]


A/N: To get the full effect of this, you should read the previous fic _What are we going to say?_ This is related to it. Please enjoy the crack.

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So Sam's sleeping with one eye open, scrunched up against the passenger side door, arms crossed. He sleeps without really being totally unconscious to Dean eyeing him. Yeah, he knows he's about to be pranked on. He saw Dean palm the straws in the diner miles back.

Dean didn't see Sam take the ketchup bottle, nor the squirt gun.

So yeah, Sam's sleeping with one eye open and his arms a crossed for a reason. He just hopes that the gun doesn't leak onto his shirt before he can get Dean, whose hand twitches at his side indecisive on when to act.

Seven miles pass before Dean's hand moves more noticeably and out from his dark sleeve comes three straws. He only needs two so Sam worries at the third.

Dean's cell phone rings and he casts a look over at Sam who is innocent eyes all the way, except that his eyes are closed and he's keeping his shoulders from tensing. Squirt guns don't kick back when shot, anticipating a recoil is force of habit. Dean knows what Sam's hunter stance looks like.

Dean answers the phone and hides the straws.

"Hello?" Sam wants to frown because it must be an unknown number and that never bodes well for them.

"Who is this?" Pause, "Alex?"

Sam sits forward, hiding the squirt gun between the door and the seat. Dean casts a disbelieving look his way. He didn't see the squirt gun though.

"What's wrong?" Looking at Sam but asking the dog. "How do you know?" His eyes are on the road again, his foot slightly more heavy on the accelerator. "Thanks for the heads up." He chuckles, nodding, "no, he's just waking up." Pause. "Oh, no, you didn't wake him. It's fine." Dean's eyes flash back onto Sam then onto the road. "Hey, Alex…How did you get on the phone?" Sam can't hear anything from the other end, just hears Dean "huh" then nod one final time before hanging up.

"Please tell me that wasn't…"

"She walks on four legs and chases her own tail." Sam blinks at Dean.

"What did she want?" Sam freezes, "wait…how did she get our number?" Dean cocks his head before scratching it.

"Huh, don't quite know that one."

"So you didn't give it to her?"

"Yeah Sam, in between the time we had tea with the nice old lady and made sure the big guy wasn't going to shoot us, I slipped our number into her paw."

"Phone book maybe."

"Unless it's a magic phone book with unlisted numbers, then no."

Sam scoffed,

"Wouldn't be surprised."

"Oh come on Sam," Dean breathed.

"What?"

Dean shook his head, and Sam asked again what she wanted.

"Not much in the department of want. She's warning us about a disturbance."

"Ok, Luke." Dean's jaw tightened. "So what's going on?"

We are heading over to find out.

"We're going back to the farm?" Dean nodded.

"Lucky us that we're headed in the general direction." Sam shook his head.

"She's two states below where we were headed," Sam Crosses his arms, "why couldn't you find out over the phone?"

"Said we had to see it." Sam sighs as he rubs at his eyes. "Why don't you get some sleep. It's going to take a bit to get there."

"Yeah alright." He stretches out, slipping the gun back into his grip. "How did she make the call?" Dean chuckles.

"Used the operator."

And Sam's back to sleeping with one eye open.

Sam scrambles out of the car and bolts for the gas station's restrooms. Dean, slowed down by the seat belt, flies after his brother only to have the door slammed into his face. The click of the lock follows. Dean knows the door isn't a match for his boots. However tempted he is to kick it down, he doesn't want to explain to the owner that he destroyed property so that he could kill his brother.

Dean looks down at the ketchup stains covering his shirt. Oh Fuck, Sam got his jacket too. His fist slams the door.

"You better make that toilet your home." Dean swears he hears Sam mock his voice. Dean huffs before pacing back towards the car.

He rips off his jacket which lands on the car's hood and opens the back right passenger door to rummage through a small pack containing his clothes.

"Your aim SUCKS!" He yells over his shoulder as he pulls off his shirt, throwing the ketchup riddled article into the back. It's too far away for Sam to actually hear, even if he has his ear pressed up against the door, waiting. Dean shrugs on the shirt before heading into the station for snacks. His eyes can't help wander over toward the outside restroom doors. Screw Sam, he can buy his own snacks.

It takes a whole lot of nothing for Sam to realize that having his ear pressed into the bathroom door is more dangerous than standing outside with Dean. There is a problem Sam overlooked, no matter what happens, he's going back into the Chevy with Dean. He groans and hits his head into the door, very smart, man. Very smart.

Sam jerks away from the door upon remembering where he locked himself into. At least he should wash his hands.

Dings announce Dean's exit of the station, a Ding-Dong is caught in his mouth since his hands are filled with two hot dogs with ketchup and onion, three bags of Funyuns, and a big gulp. Except this isn't a 7-11 so it's called something Dean doesn't remember. Not like it matters much. The man was hungry; the road is long and his appetite is short.

Through the crack of the door, Sam sees Dean catch the falling half of the Ding-Dong by using the hotdogs then looks toward the bathroom, white cream on lips, and Sam slams the door closed.

Wiping the cream away, Dean wonders if Sam made a sound like a scared chihuahua, he shrugs and licks his fingers of the cream and heads towards the car, already happy that he had food and a clean shirt. Winchesters were good at revenge and Dean was a patient man. A very bad combination for Sam.

When Sam finally gets into the car, he's more fidgety than a flea riddled dog. A collar might come in handy since it wouldn't be fair to Alex if he did, in fact, have fleas; knowing that bathroom he probably did now.

The three bags of Funyuns lasted a whole wide state, and instead of ketchup adorning Dean's shirt it was now yellow crumbs, which he easily brushed off in the dead of night as he stepped out of the car onto border of the farm. This time they headed off without shotguns.

"What's this about?" Because Sam didn't like not knowing what he was doing. Dean shrugs, of which Sam's getting tired. They keep walking until they reach the barn and Sam feels the Déjà vu kicking in, his brother has a knack for ignoring his. Just outside the doors they stop, eyes adjusting to the lack of light. Sam looks over at his brother again.

"Dean?"

Dean doesn't turn,

"Alex?" Movement catches their eyes in the back corner of the barn. Too dark to tell, they know it's too small to be Alex. Who trots into view from behind the right door.

"I think you got a rat problem." Dean points towards the back. She glances back, rolling her eyes.

"S'not a rat." She smiles, "you got here quick."

"You made it sound important. What is going on?"

She turns back around,

"Honey, you can come out." All sweet and soothing.

Out from the shadowy back comes a dark ball of fur with two different color eyes. He's maybe about three months old, long enough to grow and have some heft to him but still be small enough to be lifted with one hand. He comes right along her right side and looks up towards the brothers. "This is Sam and Dean. They are the brothers I told you about."

"Hi." Sam blinks when the puppy lifts his paw slightly.

"So…it's hereditary then," says Dean.

"Looks like it." She smiles when she looks down, "this is Edward," cocks her head, "Eddy."

"Hello Eddy," Dean greets with a warm smile.

"Frank's low on cash…farming isn't what it used to be." Dean bends down, takes a knee. "I had ten..." Eddy looks up at his mom. "I didn't have a choice with any of them. He just…I can't…" She sighs, turning into Dean's gaze. "I'm giving my son a better life than what Frank will give him." Moments pass before what she says sinks in and Dean's shaking his head.

"Alex, no, we can't." It clicks for Sam a second later.

"Oh." Now Sam takes a knee. "Alex, we're dangerous. It wouldn't be better." She takes a step forward.

"My son is not going to grow up around people that treat dogs like nothing. That's all there is around here. Maude would try to take care of all of them, but she can't. No one else is like her. It's either you or the wolves." Alex's eyes narrow, "and I don't trust them."

"This is the emergency you called us for." Sam's not questioning, so no one answers. "We travel all the time, hunting vicious _things_."

"What do you think we are, Sam? We are dogs, dear, we live to hunt." Sam sighs, seeing the logic. Still though, it doesn't feel right. "I'm not giving you an option, guys. You are taking Eddy before Frank wakes up and chases you off for trespassing, again, and you will take good care of him." She lowers herself to nuzzle her son, "I know you will."

"What?" Sam asks, "Why not go with him?"

"Mommy…" Eddy whines.

She shakes her head sadly,

"I can't. I have to stay, plus I'm getting too old to travel," she turns back to her son, "you have to go with them, honey." She whispers into his ear and he whines again. Dean turns to Sam, neither speak. They don't need too.

She sniffles getting up, pressing her son forward with her nose. Dean hesitates, watching Alex, before finally picking up Eddy.

"Hey dude." he scratches behind the pup's ear. Eddy chuckles softly into Dean's arm.

"Frank'll think he ran away and won't look too hard for him." Dean returns to his full height. Sam already had. "I trust you to take care of my son," then with the scariest most ferocious stare the boys ever came across upon a dog, "if you don't. I will find you." Sam's surprised Dean doesn't flinch but then again dealing with dad on a regular basis leads some to become jaded to scary; Sam didn't flinch either, mostly because he understood her reasoning.

"We'll be good." Sam says, and he knows they will.

Sam wonders what Alex saw to make her trust her son with two strangers she met only a year and a half ago. The son that is now licking away at ketchup stains on a tee-shirt in the backseat.

Dean wonders if Eddy likes Metallica, because if not, he now has two voices that'll complain.


End file.
